Filthy Gods (American Gods 0.5)(23)

I eyed the white boat.

“You’re taking me out on your boat?” I cocked a brow.

He laughed, stretching his hand to me. “You don’t sound excited.”

“What if someone sees us?”

He mimicked my earlier expression, cocking a brow. “No one comes down here. You’re safe.”

I sighed, taking his hand and stepping into the boat. It wobbled as I stepped down, but he gripped me so I wouldn’t fall over.

“Sit,” he said, directing me to the side of the boat next to the large wheel.

I knew nothing about sailing, but watching him as he steered the boat into the wide mouth of the ocean fascinated and thrilled me.

Saltwater splashed onto the side, wetting my t-shirt and arms, but it felt refreshing from the hot scorching gaze of the sun and him.

In the area we were in, I could only see little white dots of boats in the distance from the resort. We were far away from everyone, away from the people that caged us, that divided us. We chatted, about politics, about history, about whatever came to mind and sat underneath the hot, blazing sun.

He slowed down after a while and sat, lifting his shirt over his head and revealing that toned, tanned torso of a sculpted statue. He wiped his arm along his forehead and lay down beside me, hiding his eyes with his arm.

We laid in silence, the water splashing against the boat the only sound.

“Where did you learn to sail?” I asked, rolling onto my side to face him.

He kept his arm resting over his face, but I saw his lips curve into a smile. “My father taught me. It was one of the only things we did together.” He went quiet, but I knew the way his mouth twitched he wasn’t done talking. He was finding the right words, the right moment to speak them aloud. A man of precision and intelligence. “I wanted to impress him, so I sailed every morning I could. I won every competition around here.”

I traced my finger along the side of the planks of wood. “Did you enjoy it though?”

My voice had been soft, gentle.

I watched his throat swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You might be the only person who understands how I am. I enjoy understanding things. I enjoy being the best.”

I lowered fully onto my side, closer to him than before. “But you didn’t enjoy sailing.”

“No, but I wasn’t going to give up until I’d mastered it.”

I stared down at him. I understood him. He had a drive just as powerful as mine and I respected that.

“You won’t ever settle for anything less,” I said, not as a question, but as a fact.

He chuckled once. Harshly.

“My parents wanted me to be well rounded. To be social and well educated and athletic. I found the most comfort in books though. When everyone around me was too busy to talk to me, I read. It was my only solace, my only comfort at night. I didn’t grow up spending time with my parents. I grew up with nannies and tutors—and books were the only constant things in my life.”

My throat grew hot and dry and my vision blurred, tears burning my eyes. Those words struck me deep. Because I had felt the same way growing up. I had sought peace from my life in words. And now a man that seemed so different from me shared something so powerful.

“I enjoy dissecting people, engaging in conversations, but I’d rather have my own company or with a select few.”

My heart jumped.

Was I part of the select few?

I propped myself up on my elbow. “Like Gabe, James, and Arsen?”

He hummed a yes. “I would trust them with my life.”

I swallowed, thinking of those three men. I cringed at the thought of my article criticizing them.

“Were they upset with the article I wrote back when the list came out?” I squinted at him.

He stiffened but didn’t move his arm. “They were fine with it.”

I stared down at his blank expression and then my shoulders sagged. “Or did you tell them they had to be fine with it?”

His arm lifted at my low voice and his blue eyes caught mine.

In that single look, it dawned on me.

How all the glares, all the taunts vanished so fast.

I shot up and he followed, standing up. “You made them stop. You made them leave me alone.”

He stepped closer. “I didn’t want them to harass you. So I told them to back off. It’s no big deal. Just a stupid list.”

I froze. I wanted to be angry, I wanted to tell him off, to make a scene, but all I could do was stare at him.

“To protect me?”

He had done that. To protect me. No one had ever done something like that.

My chest tightened and a heat spread across my body, a tingling sensation touching my fingertips.

“Yes,” he said simply. As if protecting me from the frowns and insults of Yale’s crowd had been nothing out of the ordinary, nothing worth mentioning.

“But that was months ago,” I whispered, stunned. I still hated him back then and he’d— I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to taste that salty ocean on his skin and I wanted to feel his hands on my back, on my neck and on my head.

I just wanted him and that thought alone terrified and thrilled me.

I never wanted anyone before.

Not for the pure reason of my heart beating like a drum inside of me.

Not to advance my career.

Just for me and my damn heart.